it always starts the same way.

your lip gloss is half faded, cheeks still a little flushed from the heat, and abby’s just… staring. again.

she’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, boots still dusty from patrol. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, slipping off your rings one by one, unaware or maybe just pretending not to notice the way her eyes are on you like you’re the only thing keeping her grounded.

“what?” you ask eventually, smiling without looking up.

abby exhales through her nose, almost like she’s annoyed with herself. “nothing.”

you glance up, and she’s already caught. “you’re staring.”

“yeah,” she says simply. “i do that a lot.”

you raise a brow, amused. “why?”

she shrugs, walking over slowly. “just… you look so good right now.”

you roll your eyes but you’re smiling, the kind of smile that’s hard to hold back. “you say that like i don’t always look good.”

“you do,” she agrees, kneeling down in front of you now, fingers brushing over the hem of your skirt.

“you always do. even when you’re pissed at me.” she leans her forehead against your knee and sighs, like touching you is the first deep breath she’s taken all day.